Endlessly
by InWayTooDeep
Summary: She said "I like hands, they're nice for holding." So I took her hand in mine. She doesn't get that I'll never let go. Why would I?
1. Overreacting

**Twilight is not mine. Much like an Iphone and Taylor Lautner are not. Life is so unfair.**

**Reviews are much appreciated. **

**Chapter 2 is in progress.**

**Quil and Claire are freaking adorable.**

**Enough said.**

_I hate when she's mad at me._

"Claire," Quil looks at me with those big chocolate eyes of his. "Calm down."

I raise my eyebrows. "'Calm down'. I'm seventeen years old, I do not need a ruddy babysitter!" I do not understand why my parents thought I couldn't handle myself. As much as I love Quil, parents and PMS are not a winning combination. And lately, Quil was acting all too much like a parent.

"Claire Bear-"

"Don't call me that, I'm mad at you."

"Fine. Claire, we'll have a great time. I got all those rubbishy rom-coms you love so much. And triple chocolate ice cream." Yeah, and he's also wearing a T-shirt today. Cheers Q. Ruin my day why don't you?

"Unimpressed is the word that comes to mind," I huff, starting to stomp up the stairs. I wish we didn't have cream carpet, my stomping would be so much more effective if anyone could actually hear it.

"Why're you so grumpy?" Quil whines, following me down our cream corridor. "We've got all weekend together!"

"Joy," I mumble, turning into my room. Finally, some colour other than _cream_.

"Wait a second," he catches my arms and whirls me around to face him. "You don't already have plans do you? A date?" I can hear from his tone he's teasing me. I hate being teased. He's always teasing me, about my outfit, about my room, about who I'm talking to, about my friends.

I pull away from him, into my room, attempting to slam the door, but Quil sticks his foot in the way. I ignore him and collapse onto the bed. "Go away," I snap into the pillow.

"You _do_ have a date!"

"It's none of your business, so leave me alone!"

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Right now, you're lucky I haven't thrown my laptop at you. So _leave._"

"I'm real scared now Claire Bear. But, seriously, about this date..."

"Shut up. Go away. Leave me alone." I do not have the time or patience for Quil's antics. Unfortunately for me, he doesn't seem to care, and comes to sit on my bed. I feel the matress sink. "Oh, that's fine, come in if you like. Invade my personal space why don't you?"

He chuckles. "When's the date?"

"I am _not_ having this conversation with you." Q and me are practically siblings. Except I wouldn't love a brother in quite the same way. Apparently I've known him since I was two, when we came to visit Aunt Em, though it feels like so much longer. I have no idea why Quil decided to hang out with me, I was only two. And I don't understand how he can remember so much when he must've only been a few years older than me. I have no idea how old Q is. He's always so vague about it whenever I ask. All I know is that he's been with me since I can remember. Not that I'm complaining. Q's the best thing that ever happened to me.

"Well, since your parents are out of town, I think you need someone to be responsible."

"I am being responsible!" I yell, sitting up, "God, I get one freaking date and it's like I've just told you I'm about to run off to Vegas to get married! Will you please just _go away!_"

He nods his head. "So, there _is_ a date, huh?"

"I hate you." I lie back down, covering my head with the cushion.

"When's the date?" He repeats.

"I'm leaving in half an hour," I fume into the pillow.

"I don't know if-"

"Do not say I can't go. Because if you do, I will not talk to you for a month, and I'll tell all the guys about how you cried in Camp Rock. OK? Now will you get out so I can get ready?"

I feel his weight lifting off of the bed. It feels colder now his body heat is no longer radiating within such close proximity. "Well, take your cell," his voice sounds strained, like every word is a struggle. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

I hear the creaks of the floorboards as he walks over them, and then the entire house shuddering as he continues down the stairs. As soon as I hear the 'Firefly' theme tune I jump up, to the dressing table.

Mascara. Where did I put my... Oh. There it is.

Eyeliner.

Blusher.

Straightners... or curlers?

Lip gloss. Well, every girl needs lip gloss. Lip action is always welcome.

All I need now is some killer heels. Which I can't find.

Closet. Not there.

Floor. Not there either.

Shoved in a drawer? Nope.

"Quil!" I yell, standing at the top of the stairs. "Have you seen my black patent heels?"

"No," I hear him grunt in reply. I roll my eyes and pad down the stairs, searching for the shoes in between glancing at the clock. Damn, only fifteen minutes. I check everywhere, under the stairs, in my parents room, under the sofa, until I finally find them in my sister's room. Like she would ever use them.

I haul arse back to my room, and grab a bag, shoving in my phone and wallet. I'm struggling to do up my shoes as the doorbell rings. I stagger downstairs, to find Quil waiting. The door remains closed.

"Claire, I don't know if this is such a good idea-"

"Don't care," I reply, shrugging past him.

"Be careful, I-"

"Go away."

"Claire, stop-"

"Leave me alone," I say, fetching my keys from the counter.

"If he tries to-"

"Shut up." I know I'm being unreasonable, but blame the hormones, not me.

"Seriously now, is he even-"

"I hate you."

He grins mischievously. "I hate you more."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"I _know_ I hate you more."

I sigh. "Have you always been this annoying?"

He laughs, a deep throaty chuckle. "Yup. It's just you've got grumpier."

"Have not!"

He raises his eyebrows.

"No, you're just irritating," I insist.

"Have a nice time on your date Claire," he laughs, folding his arms. Which reveals just enough of his tremendously muscly arms to cause me to blush.

"I am _not_ grumpy!" I cry.

"Give me a smile Claire Bear," he leans in the kiss me on the forehead.

"Only for a laugh, Q ," I reply. Our catchphrase. Really, mega cheesy, I know. But we've been doing it since forever.

Forever. Almost as long as I've known Quil.

Quil does exactly that, chuckling at me. I smile reluctantly. Damn Quil, always making me love him.

I head for the door, knowing the boy I'm about to spend the evening with isn't half as perfect as the one I just left behind.

_I just let her leave, hating myself for being such a coward._


	2. Exaggerating

**Twilight is not mine. Tragic, I know.**

**Chapter three is still being thought up. **

**Drastic change of subject, what do people think of the new Harry Potter film, I think it was brilliant.**

**Reviews=Updates: Updates=Reviews?**

**Enjoy.**

_She looks so cute when she's watching movies._

"See, now that right there is never gonna happen," Quil proclaims, pointing at the television with a handful of popcorn.

"Suck it up Q," I reply, my mouth full of the popcorn Quil just handed to me.

"Seriously, the dude's gay!"

I roll my eyes, smacking him on the arm. "If you don't want to watch, go away."

He grins, "I'm having too much fun annoying you Claire-Bear," he coos.

"Just shut up," I snap, in no mood for being mocked. I'm not feeling my very best at this particular moment, and Quil would not stop pointing out all the flaws in my favourite romance movie. Last night's date was not all that successful.

Trevor was very good looking. He had the typical blonde hair and blue eyes combo, and a school boy charm that most of the girls in my school found irresistible. When he'd asked me on the date everyone nearby practically answered for me. I didn't have a chance to explain that I had my sights set on another, much hotter boy.

Trevor had put on some disgusting cologne that smelt of fish, and his old, rusty car stunk of crisps. He was obviously intimidated by Quil, and had decided it was appropriate to drill me on exactly why he was at my house. I was used to guys being curious about Q, but it really bugged me when Trevor asked.

"We're like best friends," I replied, holding my breath for fear of passing out from the overwhelming smell.

He sniggered. "What a loser," he'd scoffed.

"Why?" I asked defensively.

"Hanging out with someone half his age. Bit of a saddo isn't he?"

"No, he's really cool actually," I retorted, my voice harsh. "He has the nicest cologne." That shut him up.

Conversation after that was awkward and stilted, and when we finally reached the cinema, he decided we'd go see some film about zombies, without even asking me. I didn't even know what film we were going to see until we arrived in the actual screen room. The movie was dreadful. It involved a lot of screaming and blood and gore. He tried the move on me, you know, yawning and stretching the arm until it's wrapped around the poor girl next to you. His armpits stunk of fish too.

"Awesome, wasn't it?" He asked once we were standing outside the cinema.

I nodded, trying to seem enthusiastic. "Yeah, but I don't really get why that girl suddenly grew fangs."

He stared at me for a second, before launching into a monologue about how the girl had been bitten when she was sleeping, but hadn't realized it, and the forces of evil had invaded her mind, so really she'd led the people into a big trap subconsciously.

"Oh. Thanks," I'd said, before focussing on finding the car. "Where to now?"

He'd grinned at me. "I was thinking Mcdonald's, I'm a bit skint right now. You don't mind right?"

"No, that sounds cool." Romantic.

"But I got something to make everything more fun," he declared proudly, before reaching back and hauling a six pack of beers from the back seat, with my help.

Now I'm all for some beer, but I found it just a little creepy that the dude had a six cans in the back of the car. But the way I saw it, beer was the only thing that was going to make the date better, so I got started on the first can.

The rest of the evening became a little blurry from then on. I can very vaguely remember Trevor trying to kiss me when I got out of the car, but I made a run for it to my door, giggling hysterically and fiddling with my keys until Q let me in. I couldn't remember the conversation we'd had, but Q had filled me in at breakfast this morning. I personally feel he's exaggerating.

"Quil!" I'd exclaimed, throwing my arms around him. "You know what I think," I slurred, pulling away and treading clumsily through the doorway, "I think you don't smell at all of fish."

"Right..."

"And, I also think that when you wore your shirt earlier you ruined my day." At this point I'd pouted, apparently.

"Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Why?" I'd asked, wiggling my eyebrows, "Wondering if I'm drunk enough that I won't remember anything tomorrow morning?"

"No, wondering how stupid you must have been to drink so much alcohol. At least, I _hope_ it's alcohol," he said sternly.

I waved the suggestion off with my hand. "Of course it is, I had a few beers is all. And anyway, stupid girls are sexy girls, don't you think?"

"I think it's time you got to bed," he'd said, trying to hide a laugh.

"Quil!" I'd gasped. "What would my parents think? You need to control yourself mister!"

He'd lifted me up, saying, "This is why I don't like you going on dates Claire."

"I think you're _jealous_," I'd whispered, very loudly.

"Really? And why is that?"

"Because you know all the arguments we have?" He nodded bemusedly. How he managed that I do not know. "Well, my friend, these arguments result in one thing. _Sexual tension_."

By this time we were in my bedroom and Q had plonked me down on the bed, tucking me under the covers.

"Night Claire-Bear," he'd called.

"Night Q," I'd mumbled into the pillow, already on my way to sleep. "Do me a favour and don't wear a shirt tomorrow, OK?"

He'd laughed and headed out of the room.

I had remained fully dressed and fast asleep until this morning, when I was awoken by Quil, sitting on the bed and whistling some dumb ass tune just to annoy me.

"Quil," I had growled menacingly.

"Yup?" His voice was sickly sweet, and far too innocent.

"Are you aiming to have a pillow thrown at you?"

"Oh no, a _pillow_! Gosh, now I must leave!" He'd cried, before continuing with his damn whistling.

I rolled over to shove him off the bed, but immediately regretted my decision, forced to slam my eyes back shut after the light streaming through the window hit my face. "Owhahowwwww," I'd groaned, raising my hand to press against my forehead. "Q, please go away. I feel like absolute crap, and I can't remember half of what happened last night, so please , can you just leave me in peace?" My voice was croaky and my throat felt unbelievably painful.

He'd sighed, before lying down next to me on the bed. "Claire-Bear, I know from experience that the best thing to do when you're hung-over is to get up, have a paracetamol, have a big glass of water and a coffee, and try to avoid thinking about the headache. I don't like you being in pain any more than you do."

I forced myself to open my eyes, knowing he was right, and shuffled over to the side of the bed opposite from where he was lying, trying to manoeuvre myself so I could get out. Eventually I managed to end up upright, and I very, _very_ slowly began to exit the room. "I'm gonna go make some breakfast," Q had called to me in the bathroom whilst I tried to remove some of last night's make up. Never again, I had vowed to myself, would I let some sleazy guy give me alcohol.

I tried very hard to function properly with a hangover from hell. I'd changed into some tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt with Uggs, before trying my best to glide down the stairs with no sudden movements so as not to upset my almighty headache. Upon making myself some coffee, I had learned of my endeavours last night from Q, who told me of my drunken foolishness with great satisfaction.

I gave him the finger when he dissolved into hearty laughter, grabbing my bowl of cereal and my mug of coffee, and stalking into the living room to watch a movie, where Q had joined me, and now here we are, watching rom-coms like there's not tomorrow.

"We should probably try to get your hangover cleared up before Whit comes back," Q suggests.

My sister, Whitney, is staying at a friend's all weekend, probably out partying or something. She's university in Seattle and comes to visit sometimes, but the folks had already booked their weekend so she said she'd catch up with some old friends. We've always been party goers, and promised we'd hit the clubs in Seattle this weekend, but she's obviously forgotten. It's a shame, really, we were always quite close. She loves Q, but he "isn't her type" apparently. Thank the Lord, I don't think I could stand any competition from her. We're the same, except for hair colour, same piercing blue eyes, but I'm honey brunette, whereas she's striking blonde. She's one of those typical cheerleader types that every guy falls for. Not Q though. Q's mine.

I'm not _in love_ with Q, or anything, but I just have this claim on him, and get all protective of him. It's not like I haven't thought about him in that way, but it's always seemed really awkward. I guess I'd better keep things as they are.

"I'm _fine_. And anyway, she won't be back 'till tomorrow. She texted me earlier."

"Fine. We should try and get your hangover cleared up anyway."

"You think?" I reply sarcastically. "Way to state the obvious Q."

"Sheesh Claire-Bear. No need to get all stressy."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Maybe I wouldn't be so '_stressy'_ as you so kindly put it, if I didn't have you sitting next to me."

I hate being horrible to Quil, but sometimes I just can't help it. It's like the words just _come out_ before I have a chance to stop them. I guess I take him for granted really, he's always been there for me whenever I need him, and I don't know why, or how I'm supposed to repay him. It's not like he has any womanly issues that I know of.

"Hey, Q, do you have a girlfriend?" I ask, not turning from the screen.

He peers at me inquisitively. "No, why?"

"Just wondering. Why not? I mean, you're a good looking type guy and, you know, you're quite nice and not annoying when you want to be. I don't see why you don't have a wife and kids by now."

"Good looking, am I?" He asks teasingly.

"You didn't answer the question," I snap.

"Neither did you."

I roll my eyes, wondering how he can be so infuriating. "You're alright looking, I think some people would say." I turn to look at him expectantly. "Your turn."

"And are _you_ some people?"

"Just answer the question!"

"I've forgotten it now."

"Oh for freak's sake! Bugger, neither can I. Cheers Q. I answer your question but you won't answer mine. Real fair."

"You can't even remember the question!"

"And whose fault is that?"

He sighs and turns back to the movie, signalling the end of our conversation. My phone bleeps, indicating a text message from Trevor.

_Hey babe, had a gr8 time last night. Should do it agen sum time. Trev xxx_

Ew. I hate text talk, it bugs me beyond belief, and I make no secret of it at school. I hate incorrect spelling. I hate that he called me '_babe_', when we've only been on one date. I'm just deleting the message when Q leans over to see what I'm looking at. He sniggers and I elbow him away.

"So, Claire-Bear," Quil says. "I'm being serious, did that guy try anything on with you?"

He's looking at me expectantly. "No."

He raises his eyebrows. Oh for heaven's sake, why is it I can lie to everyone but him? He sees right through me. It's kind of disconcerting. "Fine. He tried to kiss me right before I got out of the car. But I ran away. That's why I was laughing so much when you opened the door."

"Right," he chortled. "Ran away? Don't you think that was a little harsh?"

"The guy was a sleaze."

"Can't argue with that."

"Wow, there's something I never thought I'd hear you say."

"Well, there's a first for everything," he replied thoughtfully. "You don't ever hate me, do you?"

"What?" What's Q on about now?

"Well, I mean, when we're arguing. You don't hate me?" He looks concerned.

"No!" I cry, perhaps too quickly. He relaxes, obviously relieved. "Blimey, where did that come from?"

"Dunno," Q mumbles, turning to look back at the television. "Just wondering's all."

I can tell our conversation is over. Q and I never really watch movies properly, we always end up arguing over some cheesy line, on whether it's adorable or gay. Q totally ruins the moments half the time, always laughing or digging me in the ribs with his elbow. It's familiar though, sitting here with him, watching his repulsed expression as he watches the screen. Freak, he's gorgeous. Shaggy, chocolate brown hair that's just the right length and gains blonde highlights whenever it's sunny, rare in La Push, and big chocolaty eyes that I could spend all day staring at. I don't though, Q would tease me to no end.

"Oh for freak's sake, kiss her already!" I yell at the screen.

Q frowns and turns to me. "I think he's just waiting 'till the moment's right, you know?"

I raise my eyebrows. "And you think that guy's gay..."

"No, I just mean that you shouldn't get mad at him for not kissing her yet. Us guys, we have stuff to deal with."

"What's the point in waiting? Seriously, he's gonna kiss her eventually, so why not get on with it?"

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbles, standing up. "More popcorn?"

_If only she knew._


	3. Teasing

**3,844 words people. I have amazed myself.**

**I got four reviews last chapter. I spent about a week and a half writing it. That's like, nine days. So that's one review every other day. Now I've had more than one visitor every other day. So please review. Constructive critiscm is appreciated and taken in stride.**

**My email is a nutter, so I can't reply to reviews, sorry. I have tried. But know that I love everyone who reviews.**

**I'm going away tomorrow for two weeks. On a boat in Greece. So no updates for a while, sorry.**

**BLACKWATER shout out at the end. Look for it. - Because Nessie sucks.**

**News - Rachelle Lefevre has been replaced at Victoria. WTF?! She was AMAZING! **

**And, has anyone heard the new Muse song? They are my favourite band. The song is epic. 'United States of Eurasia', and 'The Resistance' is first played on Monday. Look them up on Youtube.**

**Oh, and check out 'I'm not over' by Carolina Liar, and 'Superhuman Touch' by Athlete.**

**Playlist suggestions for Quil and Claire would be cool. To give me inspiration. Or even just good songs. **

**And, despite my best efforts when wishing in wishing fountains, I do not own Twilight. Therefore I do not own an Edward Cullen. And they ask why teens today are depressed. Sigh.**

**Enjoy. :) x**

_It's taking all my strength not to imagine what is going on behind that door._

"Hey Q?" I call out to the corridor where he's lurking. "What exactly is this again?"

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. "It's a barbeque on the beach Claire. And we might go swimming. You don't need to wear anything smart, jeans and a T-shirt will be fine. And a swimsuit of description, obviously."

I make a mental checklist, and add 'bikini' to the top of it. I wave off the idea of wearing jeans and a T-shirt. "But Leah's gonna be there, and you know she always looks amazing. Where's she been again?"

"Er, you know, doing some travelling. Getting over a break-up."

"Who?!" I exclaim, popping my head out of the door. "I didn't know Leah had a boyfriend!"

He frowns, before simply explaining, "She had one a while back. She just needed to get away from it all."

"Yeah, but who did she break up with?" I persist. A lot of the time I have to pry answers out of Q, he's sometimes so reluctant to give me full explanations, or proper excuses. I usually end up disappointed, sometimes I feel like my life has all these blanks in it, where I'm not sure what's really going on. Not that I'm not happy with my life or anything, I just wish Q would open up to me, let me in.

He sighs, but answers my question anyway. "Someone called Sam."

I stop sifting through clothes and stick my head back around the door, doing the maths in my head. I think Uncle Sam and Leah are around the same age, and I think he was in his early twenties when he and Aunt Em got together. That's an awful long time to be getting over a breakup. "As in Uncle Sam?" I ask in shock.

He raises his eyebrows. " You're asking me if Leah and Sam, Sam, who is obviously very in love with your Aunt Emily, dated. What do you think?"

I nod, "Right, stupid idea. Sorry." I turn around, shutting the door behind me. I rummage through the now humongous piles of clothing on the floor. This is a ruddy nightmare. A beach barbeque. Hmmm. I guess Q's right, I can just wear jeans and a T-shirt. But I'll need a bikini underneath if we're swimming. I sigh, and begin praying that I'll find two matching pieces soon. I finally find a red and white checked set and decide I'll make it a smart top. I scour the covered floor in search of a shirt that will do. Spotting a navy and cream striped shirt, I pull it on, buttoning it up hurriedly when I realize I have only another ten minutes before we have to leave. I begin to search the floor for some jeans, lifting up countless jackets, trousers, tops, hat, scarves, and bras as I do so. I finally find some dark blue jeans and jump into them, slip my feet into some deep blue plimsolls, and run over to the dressing table to do my makeup.

But I'll need waterproof mascara.

And waterproof eyeshadow.

And waterproof eyeliner.

And waterproof blusher.

And waterproof foundation.

Swimming complicates everything.

The sun has been out all day, warming up our little Rez to a warm temperature. Since we get so little sun here in La Push, the lot decided a beach barbeque was the perfect opportunity to make the most of the fine weather. It's dark now, of course, and realistically the water will still be freezing. But given the guys have ridiculously high temperatures all of the time, and seem to wander around shirtless a lot in the winter, whether the water is going to be hot or not never really seems to be an issue. I'm generally very squeamish, but a rare occasion like today is just too good to pass up.

Maybe I can take the rest of my makeup off before we go swimming, and just keep the waterproof mascara. But if we go swimming right away, I can put it all on afterwards.

Why is it fashion dilemmas have become a part of my everyday life?

I settle on some waterproof mascara and throw the rest into a bag, along with my phone, Ipod, – never will I venture anywhere without my beloved Ipod – towel, and underwear.

My parents are being particularly lenient with my curfew, as during their weekend away, their car broke down and was not fixed for a working week, leaving me at home alone for five long nights. Five terrifying, horrible nights without my parents. They think I must have missed them terribly. Yuhuh. Sure. I love my parents, I really do, but what self-respecting teenager would honestly say they minded when their parents left for a week?

No self-respecting, sane teenager is the answer.

It's a Saturday and they've said they don't mind when I come back, as long as I'm not "high or pregnant".

I have such trusting parents.

I think I'm just about ready. I swing open the door and scramble down the stairs to where Q is waiting.

He swiftly looks me up and down before nodding in approval. "You look very nice Claire-Bear."

I smile, "Quite the charmer, aren't you Q?"

He chuckles, gesturing for me to follow him out of the door. I call goodbye to my parents, who are back from their weekend-turned-week away and watching a documentary in the living room, and trot along after him.

***

We hear the group before we see them. Quil shakes his head at the noise and sighs as he parks the car, before gracefully clambering out of the car. A feat I didn't know possible. I slide out of the door frame, clinging onto the handle in the roof of the car to stop me from landing in a pile of mud. Throughout my struggle, Q smothers his hearty laughter with his hand, trying to cover it up as coughing.

Once I'm finally safely on the ground, I frown and storm off towards the beach. Q catches my hand my spins me to face him. "Why'd you walk off without me?" He asks, all too innocently.

"You were rude," I reply.

He gasps in mock horror. "How?"

"You laughed at me."

"I was _coughing_ not laughing. And even if I was, so?"

"You were not 'coughing', you were laughing. And laughing at other people is rude."

He smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. But you just looked so funny, one arm flailing around..." He is reduced into laughter, whilst I stand waiting for him to finish with my arms crossed across my chest.

When he has finally calmed down, I glare at him. "Word of advice, when you're apologising to someone, don't say 'I'm sorry, but...' because your apology loses all meaning."

He looks like he is trying not to laugh at my mini lecture. "OK then Claire-Bear. I'm sorry."

I pause and wait to see if any more words or chuckles are coming. When it is clear they are not – for the time being anyway- I nod, beginning towards the sand once more. Yet again, Q catches my arm and whirls me around to look at him. "Give me a smile Claire-Bear."

I roll my eyes. "Are we really doing that? Now? Seriously?"

He nods. "Yes. Now come on. _Give me a smile Claire-Bear._"

I sigh. "Only for a laugh Q."

And as always, he chuckles at me, before grabbing my hand and dragging me towards the noise.

As we near the crowd, I hear my Aunt Em shriek, "Claire!"

I brace myself for the uncomfortably tight hugs I am sure to be receiving within the next few minutes. "Hey Aunt Em," I reply, galloping up to her. She pulls my into a close hug, before pulling away to look at me.

"Look at you honey, you've gotten so big!" She marvels.

I roll my eyes. "You saw me just two weeks ago."

She laughs. "So? You're still bigger than you used to be."

"Still tiny compared to these guys though," I say, gesturing around us.

"Aren't we all?"

I shake my head and turn to my Uncle Sam. "Hey kiddo," he greets, ruffling my hair. "Too old for hugs from your uncle?"

I grin. "Hope not."

He laughs and hugs me. "I think there's someone here you'll want to see, besides me of course," he says, winking and pointing over to where some of the gang are standing.

I narrow my eyes when I see a familiar looking black haired, browned eyed man standing in the cluster.

But no.

It can't be.

He left years ago.

I notice his russet coloured skin and rounded cheeks, but when I see the spark in his eye I know it is really him.

"Jake!" I scream, throwing myself towards him. I hurl myself into his outstretched arms, blushing slightly when I realize what a spectacle I've just made of myself. I can feel his chest vibrating as he laughs.

"Hey Claire-Bear," he releases me to look at me. "Wow, you're so much _older!_"

"Well, yeah, that tends to happen when you grow up."

"But I can see your sense of humour has remained."

"You bet. I have no other way of teasing Q, do I?" I coo, giving Quil, who is standing at my side, an amused expression on his gorgeous face, a hug.

"Nope, I guess not. I trust you've kept him in check?"

"Of course."

"Stopped the ladies from throwing themselves at him?"

"Well, I can only wake him up from his lovely little dreams every so often, I'm afraid."

Jake chuckles. "Boy, what did I ever do without your biting sarcasm?"

"I don't know how you have survived," I pronounce slowly. We both laugh. "So anyway, what are you _doing _here? Last time I asked you were in Alaska or something."

"Well, I just missed you too much," he coos jokingly, poking my nose.

"OK, OK, enough of that, thank you very much," Q, who has been watching our exchange, interjects, giving Jake a meaningful look and sweeping me under his arm. Jake rolls his eyes, I swat Q's arm, then turn to the greetings of Embry and Brady.

I spot Leah talking to Kim and Rachel, and excuse myself as I go to join them. Leah looks stunning in some black jeans and a grey studded vest, with flat grey ankle boots and a leather jacket. She's one of those naturally beautiful people. I love going shopping with her, shop assistants hurry to help her, she's so insanely stylish. Not to mention all the attention we get from boys. Well, I guess they look at Leah, but they must see me standing beside her.

The girls turn towards me as I approach. Leah kisses me on both cheeks, before returning to studiously ignoring Uncle Sam and Aunt Em. I'm not really sure why she hates them so much, but it's never really been something she's bothered to hide. Kim and Rachel give me swift hugs, much more comfortable than the ones from the boys.

"So Claire," Leah says when I've finished. "How've things been with you? Any interesting shit I'd want to know?"

"Cool thanks," I say, observing her as she lights a cigarette. "Q being ludicrously overprotective."

She laughs, a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Quite a lot of the guys in this group are like that. Occupational hazard."

I notice Rachel and Kim cringe and exchange a look. I frown and wonder why they're acting so weird. "But they're just big teddy bears really," Rachel pipes up, giving Leah a look, which she returns.

I nod in agreement, and we all laugh. "What's so funny?" Lottie asks, coming over to join us, Colin in tow.

"Nothing much Lot," Kim says, glaring at Leah, who raises her eyebrows and shrugs. "Colin, you sure you want to be here? It's really a girls' conversation. Make-up, boys, tampons..."

His eyes widen and he pulls his arm tighter around Lot for a second before kissing her cheek and running towards where Paul, Jared, and now Q are talking.

Lot shakes her head. "Say one word about womanly troubles..."

"And they're gone," Rachel finishes for her. I snigger as Q begins to walk towards us.

"And so," I say overly loudly, "I had to buy the applicator ones instead of the apply yourself ones. The shop assistant was all 'but these are better for you if you have a heavy flow'." We all chuckle as Quil freezes and turns back around, walking very swiftly back to the boys. Once he is out of earshot we all howl with laughter.

"That was real mean," Leah says. "Poor sod."

After our laughter has subsided, Kim speaks up. "So Lottie," she says slowly. Lot nods at her in a symbol to continue. "Are you and Colin...?"

She nods vigorously, her eyes lighting up.

"Fuck, I think I'm gonna puke," Leah says in disgust. Rachel slaps her lightly on the arm.

"When did that happen?" Kim asks.

Lot's a year and a half older than me, in the year above at school, and Colin's a bit younger than Quil. She's been a fairly steady figure in my life, she hasn't been around as long as Q, of course, but since I was about six, she'd be at every gang gathering, and Colin and Q were keen for us to be friends. The older girls are quite a bit older, and go out on 'girls' nights' without us quite a lot, but it doesn't bother Lottie or I, we know when we're older we'll be invited, and the older three are always welcoming and inclusive.

I turn my thoughts back to Lot's story. "Well, we were sitting in my bedroom, I was revising for a test I had the next day on local history. And Colin started telling me all the legends of the wolves and told me-" She breaks off when she sees Kim and Rachel's desperate shaking heads and cutting throat actions.

"What is going on?" I demand.

The girls look at one another. "What do you mean?" Rachel asks slowly.

"You've been acting weird all night. Giving each other weird looks and acting strange. And why did you just cut Lot off like that? I want to know why you're all acting like suck freaks."

"We, er, we cut Lot off, because... it's painful for Leah to hear about romance and stuff. Given her breakup and all," Kim says, sounding faulty.

Leah looks from Rachel to Kim to me bemusedly, stamping out her cigarette. "That's... right? It hurts so fucking bad."

I sigh, about to demand the real explanation, when Emily calls. "Dinner! Girls over there, come on! You know what this lot are like, it'll all be gone!"

We all head towards the food, where Emily is holding the boys back, slapping their hands whenever they wander too close to the burgers. "Ladies first boys. Be polite."

I go to sit in between Q and Seth.

"Claire!" Seth cries. "Good to see you!"

"Hey Seth," I murmur in response to his greeting, still trying to work out what's up with the girls. Rachel's gone to sit between Paul and Jacob, looking perfectly content in between the two most important men in her life. Besides Billy Black, of course. Billy's still hanging on, he's a legend in La Push, but he isn't here tonight.

Leah's on Seth's other side, with Jared beside her. Jared has his arm around Kim, who's talking animatedly with Emily. Sam is sitting with his hand on Emily's knee, in deep conversation with Embry and Brady. Colin and Lottie are laughing in between Paul and Brady. I smile as I watch everyone. I love it when the gang gets together, everyone gets on so well, with the exception of Leah and Emily, and they feel like family.

Yeah.

I wish.

If only I had a brother as hot and funny as the boys sitting around this barbeque are.

It's been nice growing up in this extended family. They've always been a rock, there's always been someone to talk to. Mostly Q, or my Aunt Em, but I've turned to all of them at least once in my many times of crisis.

Q notices my grin. "What's got you in such a good mood Claire-Bear?" He asks, stretching his arm around me.

"Nothing" I reply, "Just happy really."

He grins, his face lighting up. "Good. Me too."

I'm handed a plate weighed down with food, most of which I end up giving to Quil. Some of which he takes anyway. Aunt Em is officially the best cook on the entire planet. Anything she makes tastes delicious, be it chocolate cookies or fishcakes. I, unfortunately, did not inherit this 'wondrous cooking' gene. My mum has it, my sister has it, even my cousin has it. But it missed me out.

"So," Paul says to me from across the circle, as I swat away Q's hand when he tries to snatch a sausage, "How's school going?"

I grimace. "If spending eight hours a day in stuffy classrooms listening to boring old people ramble on and on for hours about stuff that I really don't care about counts as enjoyable, it's joyous," I rant sarcastically.

Paul laughs and Q groans as I pick up his hand and return it to his knee from where he tried to pinch my bread. He takes his huge hand out from underneath my tiny one and places his back on top.

"I know what you mean," Leah adds, "I remember they used to witter on and on about all this shit that I couldn't be fucked to remember."

"Story of my life so far," I sigh, reflecting on the hours of school I have spent labouring away, and counting down the days until summer. It's October.

I have a long way to go.

"Poor old Claire-Bear," Q teases, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. "At least you've got me to look forward to when you come home."

I sit in silence, blinking a few times, before saying, "Indeed."

Paul and Seth erupt into laughter. "Rejection, man!" Seth howls.

"Only kidding," I console, when I see Q's crushed expression. "You're the highlight." I speak quietly so only he can hear me.

He beams, kissing my forehead. "N'awwwwwww," Paul taunts, but then Rachel faces him, raising her eyebrows, and he shuts up. "Sorry," he mutters, sniggering.

It's kind of funny how much control Rachel has over Paul, it's the same with Sam and Emily, and Kim and Jared. The woman has all the power in the relationship. It's sweet to see these huge men being bossed around.

"How's stuff at the garage?" I ask Embry.

"Good thanks, we just got this gorgeous girl in," by girl I realize he means car, I have been embarrassed because of my naiveté many a time. He continues to talk in technical terms which the boys around me find extremely interesting. I, on the other hand, zone out, aimlessly wondering if I actually finished my history assignment that was overdue. "It's very nice looking," Embry adds for my benefit.

We continue with idle chatter for a while longer, but stop when Emily stands up, clapping her hands. Everyone listens to Emily, she's like the mother of the group. "OK guys," she rubs her hands together gleefully, "Who's up for a swim?"

We all whoop and cheer, standing up. "I left my bag in your car," I tell Q. "It's got my towel and stuff in it."

"I'll come with you," he says, and we stroll amicably towards the parking lot, followed by Rachel and Paul, everyone else is either going home wet, or already has their bags.

I reach for my bag in the backseat, swinging it over my shoulder. Q shuts the door and locks it, then rushes over to me. "Here, give me that," he says, taking the bag and holding it in his hand. His puts his arm around me.

It's a gorgeous night, a full moon, who's beams are reflected on the water. The scenery in La Push can just be breathtaking sometimes. There's a light breeze, and the trees that run all along the back of the beach are swaying. A glance at the clock on my phone tells me it's just gone ten.

As we arrive back on the sand, Embry and Jake run into the sea, creating massive waves and huge splashes, Emily and Sam follow, Emily wearing a one piece to hide her scars. Seth and Brady leap in next, followed by Lottie and Colin. Leah strides in, her skimpy bikini showing off her ridiculously slim body. I would kill for a tummy as flat as hers, or legs as lean. "Fuck, it's cold," I hear her gasp. Paul and Rachel follow, Paul guiding Rachel in. Finally Jared and Kim proceed slowly into the water, Kim being particularly squeamish and standing at the water's edge dipping one toe in. Jared laughs at her, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder as she squeals. Jared and Kim were high school sweethearts apparently, which I think is just adorable. They look so right together, like they were made to fit. All of the couples in our gang do. I laugh at the lot of them, all splashing in the water.

"Yo, Quil! Claire! You coming in or what?" Embry yells.

I hurry over to where everyone's laid their towels and lay mine down. Q does the same, pulling off his T-shirt. "You're going in wearing jeans?" I ask, desperately trying not to stare at his chiselled chest.

"Yeah, my exceptional body heat will dry them off," he says humorously.

I nod, before pulling off my cardigan and shoes. It's freezing, I inhale quickly, feeling my body lose all of its heat. At least I have Q to keep me warm. He's like a microwave, and about as effective as hot chocolate when I need warming up in winter. I unbutton my shirt and pull down my jeans, shivering. "Come on then," I say to Quil, running towards the black water.

_She's in a bikini._

_I think I died and went to Heaven._


	4. Stuttering

**The new Muse single is ridiculously good.**

**Thanks for the music and the reviews.**

**Sorry this one's so short.**

**A new one should be up pretty soon.**

**I actually have a plan for this!**

**I'm dying of starvation. I eat reviews. Hint hint.**

**Enjoy...**

_Anything to be with her._

Mornings in my house are pretty quiet.

Mum and Dad get up to go to work ridiculously early, leaving me in the safe hands of Q. I wish they didn't insist he be there every time I'm at home alone, he always looks haggard in the mornings.

Mind you, he works the tired, messy look extremely well. Q works every look extremely well. I'd never tell him this, of course, it would only make him even vainer.

Mornings have been like this for as long as I can remember, apparently before Q I had a babysitter. I'd much rather Quil though.

Anyway, you can imagine my surprise when, as I stumble downstairs for a coffee, I am greeted with the sight of my parents sitting at the kitchen counter, my dad reading the newspaper, and my Mum on the phone. When they see me they both stop what they are doing, my dad setting down the paper, and my mum telling the person on the other end of the line that she'll, "Be in touch."

Since my parents and I have not had a proper conversation since I failed geography last year, I am seriously freaked out.

I search for Quil, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Seriously freaked out just took on a whole new level. "Morning guys," I say wearily, heading for the coffee machine. I can practically feel their eyes boring holes in my pyjamas. The way I see it, the quicker I'm out of here, the better.

After I've set the coffee up, I drum my fingers on the work-surface, wondering if having breakfast with parents is supposed to be this awkward.

Why are they even here?

My Mum begins to speak, starting – hopefully - to answer my question. "Claire, honey, you might want to sit down."

I blink. "I'm fine standing."

My Dad coughs. "Sit down Claire." His tone is harsh. My Dad has this vendetta against Q, and because I spend more time with Q than him, hates me.

I look at him like I would a crazy person. "No!"

"Do as you're told!"

"Steve," my Mum interjects, giving him a disapproving look. "Be nice."

"Yeah, imagine you're someone else," I add helpfully. "Roleplay." I smile at him tauntingly.

Is it wrong that I hate my Dad?

"Claire," Mum admonishes, "You too."

I sigh. "What do you guys want from me? Or am I free to go upstairs? I have school, you know. Every weekday. Just in case you didn't know because I never see you. Ever." Yeah, I'm sour. But try growing up seeing more of a guy who's not at all related to you than your parents.

At least, I _hope_ I'm not related to Q.

Dad huffs. "Oh please Claire," he snaps, "Grow up."

"Steve, you are not helping!" Mum looks agitated now.

"Will you just say what you were going to say and get it over with!?" I wait, and when neither of my parents answer a horrible thought occurs to me. "Shit, you're not pregnant are you. Oh fuck, that's so gross!"

"Don't use that language!" Dad booms.

At the same time Mum hastily replies, "No! Of course not! "

"Then what?" I ask, ignoring Dad's comment.

"Well," Mum begins slowly. "You may have noticed that your father and I have been... drifting apart. And we've decided to separate." She stops and eyes me nervously. Maybe to let it sink in.

My parents are constantly arguing, but... "What, divorced?! What about your, your romantic weekend thing?"

"It was to try and figure things out. And we think divorce is the best option."

I nod slowly, trying to take it in. Who am I going to live with? Mum probably, Dad and I don't really see eye to eye.

But, I'm, this... what?

My parents can't be splitting up, they just _can't _be! We're a family! A slightly dysfunctional one, yes, but, still, we're a family.

I'm a product of a broken home!

After what seems like ages, I manage to muster, "Well, thanks guys. I think you've set me up for a great day. I think I'll go get ready now." My voice is barely a whisper.

I turn and head up the stairs, unable to think straight. "Wait!" Mum calls.

I turn slowly. "There's something else," she says quietly.

I stare at her expectantly. "Right."

"We can't decide who should keep the house. And your father's been promoted, a new position in New York. And I can't afford the rent on this place alone."

I shake my head in confusion. "So we'll move someplace cheaper. There're tons of places in La Push way less pricey than this."

Mum sighs. "I've also been offered a new job. In England. You're coming with me."

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. "What, no!"

"Claire-"

"No. No fucking way."

"Be reasonable about this-"

"Quil?"

Mum looks at me with a strange expression. "What about Quil?"

"He's coming too?"

"No."

"_What?"_

_What?_ They cannot be serious. If they think for a second I'd choose them over Q, they have some serious issues. I can't leave him.

I can't leave him behind.

"Quil is staying here. And you're coming with me."

"No. You're out of your mind." It's obvious from my voice that I'm livid. "I'm not leaving."

"Stop being such a-"

"I'm not leaving La Push. I'm not leaving school. I'm not leaving Aunt Em. I'm not leaving the girls. I'm not leaving the guys." My voice is a harsh whisper, anger drawn out in every word. "And most of all, I'm not leaving Q."

With this is mind I hurl myself up the stairs, slamming my bedroom door behind me. I clamber into bed, with no intention of going to school.

I lie there for a second, before getting up and lifting my dressing table to block the door, sending my make-up spilling everywhere. Unwelcome visits from unwelcome parents are not what I want.

Life without Q would just be... unimaginable.

_This cannot be happening._

_Embry and Paul hold me down outside her house as I listen to my life fall apart._

_I need her._

_I need Claire._


	5. Dancing

**Hey guys, sorry this one's short again.**

**Thank you for the reviews, you lot are awesome.**

**So, I watched 'A Walk To Remember' a few days ago on Youtube, and have since watched it another three times and read the book. Best. Movie. Ever.**

**And since watching the film I have become a fan of Mandy Moore's later work, mainly her two latest albums, 'Wild Hope' and 'Amanda Leigh'.**

**Twilight at the Teen Choice Awards! Yay for winning 11 awards!**

**Death Cab For Cutie are on the New Moon soundtrack. As a fan of the band, I think this rocks.**

**I don't own Twilight. But I do own a pair of luurrrvveeellly new shoes. Well, four pairs, and a new bag and four new tops. But I bought everything but the first pair of shoes at outlets! So it's alright.**

**School is starting up again in a few days, so I don't know when the next chapter will be up. Blame the schooling system.**

**Enjoy mes amies...**

_She...I...We...How...Emily could...Why would they...She can't... Claire._

_Running away doesn't help much when all I want is to be near her._

I slam the door as I leave the house for the first time in days. It's Friday, my parents are at work. They've given up trying to talk to me. I've basically barricaded myself in my bedroom, only coming out to eat, sleep, and make coffee.

This entire situation seems so surreal, I can't quite grasp it. The idea of leaving Q behind is just insane. I'm not _me_ without Q. When I think of myself, he's part of the mental image.

Which is more than I can say for my parents. They just don't have the right. They can't _do_ this. They can't just take me away from the one person that means everything to me. They can't take me away from all I've ever known.

I think this is the first time I haven't been able to talk to Q. I haven't seen him since before the bastards that call themselves my parents told me they were dragging me halfway round the world because they felt like it.

And that is why I'm going to Aunt Em's. She'll help, I know she will. She always has. It's like her job. Anytime anyone has a problem, or an issue or anything, they go to Aunt Em.

I shake my head, cursing under my breath as I clamber into the car. It's freezing and pouring with rain outside, though it's supposed to be July. I'm used to it by now though, living in La Push is like living in a permanent puddle. It has rained every single year on my birthday, which is on August 6th. Supposedly summertime. Seasons don't really have that much of an effect here.

"Out of their fucking minds," I mutter to myself as I start the car. I swerve out of the drive, not caring about reckless driving today. Sod the citizens of La Push. My personal issues have to come first sometimes.

The drive to Aunt Em and Sam's is a short one, only seven minutes when the traffic's bad. The journey takes me three, given that it's the middle of the day, and the roads are practically deserted. That, and the fact that I'm driving at a very dangerous, illegal speed.

So my driving skills aren't all that great. Maybe I'll be able to improve one day, with Quil helping me.

But _wait_. I'm moving to Eng_fucking_land. And Q isn't. So I guess him teaching me to drive without endangering the lives of the pedestrians on the rez isn't an option.

But since when was I given options anyway?

I hate my parents.

Hate. Them.

Q's been a better parent to me than either of them could ever try to be. He keeps me sane. They drive me insane.

They call _me_ selfish. When they're the ones who have dedicated the past seventeen and eleven months of my life to themselves.

I'm so mad, I feel like screaming. Or swearing at random people on the street.

Unfortunately, my expressions of rage will have to wait until some other time, as when I look up to see where I'm actually headed, I realize I've arrived at Sam and Emily's.

I guess I must have been driving on default.

I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Once I've slowed my breathing down to a semi-regular pace, I climb out of the car, and scramble up to the front door, banging the brass knocker heavily. Aunt Em swings the door open. Her eyes fall in pity when she sees me. "Claire, honey," she mumbles, pulling me into a hug.

I lean against her, suddenly the days of no sleep and constant anger are becoming apparent. "You heard?" I mumble into her shoulder.

"Your Mum called."

I nod, blinking back tears.

"Come in, I made cookies."

I follow her through to the kitchen. I smile half-heartedly when she pushes the plate of baked goodness towards me. "Thanks."

"Cookies make everything better."

"Yeah," I sigh.

"So," Aunt Em asks, sitting down opposite where I've collapsed into a chair. "How are you?"

"Not so good," I reply, trying to hold myself together. "I can't leave."

She nods. "Honey, if there was something I could do..."

I eye her cautiously. "Well, I was thinking... You could maybe convince Mum to let me stay here."

She grimaces. "On your own in that big house of yours? I don't think-"

"To stay here with you," I blurt out.

Emily's mouth opens and she raises her eyebrows, mouthing an '_Oh_,' as she looks down at the table. "I'm sorry honey, we don't have room."

"I could just sleep on the couch."

She shakes her head. "That thing would kill your back."

"Leaving would kill _me_!"

"Claire-"

"Please Aunt Em," I whisper.

She's silent for a long time. I don't look at her, all I can think of is how my safety net just broke.

I'm really going to have to go.

"I have an idea," Aunt Em breaks the silence. "Don't get too excited," she says when she sees my hopeful expression, "It's just an idea."

"Well, what is it?"

"I'll have to sort a few things out first, but you'll just have to trust me on this, yes?"

I nod, though it pains me to agree to be ignorant. I hate not knowing everything. Our thoughts are broken by a loud creaking, and I turn to see him standing in the doorway to the garden.

My eyes lock with his. "Quil," I breathe, only realizing now how much I've missed him. And I hope to God Aunt Em's idea works because I'd rather kill myself than live without him.

He looks like death. He has scars running down his arms and his steps are dragged, heavy. His hair's scruffy. Huge bags under his eyes.

His eyes.

Usually so deep and thoughtful and welcoming and chocolatey.

But now they just look... numb.

Like he's dead inside.

He gazes at me before turning and leaving, back through the door he just came through.

***

"Please just tell me what's going on," I beg Aunt Em, who's guiding me, her hands over my eyes, to Lord knows where.

"Patience is a virtue," she replies.

I sigh dramatically. "Where are we going?" I ask again after a few minutes silence.

She laughs. "Just wait a little while longer, all will be revealed. Trust me."

"I seem to be doing that a lot nowadays," I humph.

"Stop moaning."

"Fine." I grope out, trying to feel my way. "Fuuuu-dge!" I cry when I inadvertently step into a pot hole.

"Nice save," Aunt Em chides.

"Oh come on, I'm pretty certain I heard you say the F-word when Jamie was sick on your trousers the other day."

"Hey, you would too! I never said I could control my kids. And I said it quietly."

"Fine, I guess so."

I'm pretty sure that if I had kids as hard to handle as Aunt Em's I'd say a lot worse. Jamie was a sweetheart, but she and her brother Charlie could drive us all crazy.

"Step up. Up. Up." I hear a door opening and slamming behind us. "OK. Voila!" Aunt Em sweeps off my blindfold and looks at me expectantly.

"We're... at Quil's?"

"Yup." She looks pleased with herself. She must have noticed my non-pulsed expression. She sighs. "We have no room, but Quil said you can stay with him. He has a spare room since Collin and Paul moved out, so he said it's fine. But you need to keep some of your clothes at our's, I've told your parents you're staying on the sofa bed."

"But if you had room, then why-"

"We don't actually have a sofa bed. But your parents wouldn't agree to let you stay if they knew you're at Quil's. But I know him very well and I think he's just as responsible as us. I wouldn't be lying to your parents otherwise."

"So, I'll be living... at Q's!" I pause taking it in. "Thanks so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I squeal, running over to hug Aunt Em. "I was really panicking for a second then. You're a lifesaver," I tell her earnestly.

"Well, we couldn't lose you now, could we?" She grins. "Look, I have to get back, Sam'll be getting back from work, and I need to get dinner ready. Quil's already moved all your stuff in. He should be home any minute."

"Wow. Well, thanks."

She kisses me on the cheek, before hurrying out the door. I wait for a second before jumping up and down. "I'm not going! Staying on the rez! Staying with Q!" My jumping and squealing turns into happy dancing and singing.

"Glad to be staying then?"

I turn violently to see Q trying not to laugh in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Aunt Em said you weren't home." I can feel myself blushing.

"I wasn't. Just got back."

"Oh." There's a silence, where Q just looks amusedly at me.

"Sorry about the other day at Emily's. It's just, I thought you were going, and-"

"It's fine," I brush off the comment. "I totally get it."

"So I'm forgiven?" He asks hopefully.

"Well, serious grovelling and a really big birthday present would help... But I guess so."

"Good. You can go get settled in. Just treat this place like your own."

I smile and turn down the corridor towards my room, whichever one it is. "Hey, Q, I'm really grateful to you for letting me stay. Really."

He grins, coming over to hug me. "Couldn't let you go," he mutters into my hair. "Your room's the first on the right," he says pulling away, "Bathroom's the next one along. Most of your stuff's unpacked, just, your, er, delicates and," he coughs, "female things..."

I laugh. "Real smooth Q."

As I walk down the corridor I feel a weird... feeling. I can't really describe. It was like a flutter. I push the thought to the back of my mind and continue on towards my new room.

_As long as she's happy everything's fine._

_As long as she's near me._


	6. Swooning

**Hey smurf buddies. Hope all is good. Thank you for the reviews, you guys are awesomeness concentrated.**

**School is suckish. And sticky back plastic is evil.**

**If anyone watched 'A Walk To Remember', please tell me what you thought in a review!**

**So, I'm going to do something that I've never tried before, and say that I won't update until I get 50 reviews (for the entire story, not the chapter). It really bugs me when authors do this, but I'm trying so hard to keep the review count up! So please review if you want quick updates. Sorry.**

**I have a plot line for this, very dramatic, but I hope you'll like it. Things start to heat up in the next few chapters, so I'm quite excited.**

**I have two bands for you guys to listen to, 'The Last Goodnight' and 'Parachute'. They're V. good.**

**MUSE'S NEW ALBUM'S OUT NEXT WEEK! YAY FOR MUSE!**

**Oh, and a few of you have been asking, Claire's seventeen, but her birthday's coming up soon. Originally it was sixteen, but I realized I had to change it, sorry for the blunder. **

**Love love love.**

**Enjoy...**

_It's like that lame 80's crappy pop song._

_Oh yeah._

'_Heaven is a Place on Earth'._

_Well obviously it is._

_As long as she's involved._

"_Living_ with Quil?" Maggie screeches in the school canteen the next Monday, causing all eyes in the room to turn to us. Being on the cool table, everything you say has to be major gossip. "Like, in the same house and everything?" She whispers, noticing everyone staring.

"Well, technically it's an apartment, but, yeah."

"And you're, what, seventeen still?"

"Yes."

"And you're living with a thirty something year old who you're in stupidly in love with?"

"Oh for God's sake, I'm not in love with him!"

"Babe, I don't think you've ever lasted an hour without mentioning him. _Ever_."

"So?"

"So it proves you're obsessed."

"We're best friends Mag, of course I'm gonna mention him sometimes."

"All the time."

"Only sometimes!"

"Stu'll vouch for me," she says, gesturing towards her boyfriend, who's sitting at the other end of the table discussing touch downs with Trevor and Smithy.

I roll my eyes. "Stu doesn't count. He'll agree with you as long as it means he can get laid."

She narrows her eyes at me. "You really are a huge cynic."

"No, I'm just logical."

"Logic isn't being depressing."

"Yeah, it's being realistic."

"_Anyway_, back to you and Quil. What'd your folks say?"

I grimaced. "They don't exactly know about it."

"_What?!_" She screams.

"Shhhhhhh," I hush, turning to see the entire population of the rez school staring at us.

"What?!" She repeats, this time whispering.

"We haven't told them, they think I'm staying with Aunt Em."

"You really think you can pull this off?"

"Yup. I've got some clothes at her house and whenever the parentals are in town, if they ever come visit, which I really doubt, I'll go round there."

"Seems a bit ambitious to me."

"Well, Aunt Em and Uncle Sam don't have room for me and there's no way I'm living with my Dad or moving to England!" I hiss.

"Fine, fine, sorry. Hey, you want to do a double sometime?" She asks.

"Huh?"

"You know, a double date. You and Trev, me and Stu?"

"Ew, no."

"I thought the date went well?"

"Who told you that?"

She looks sheepish. "Trevor..."

"Uhuh. Well, he got me drunk."

"Who doesn't?"

"What? Just because a girl likes a bit of drink!"

"A little bit?"

"Whatever. I have to go, I've got two free periods and Q said he'd pick me up in five."

"'Kay, see you."

"Bye." I air-kiss her cheek and stride out of the canteen. I'm not a typical 'popular' girl, I don't wear mini-skirts or heels, my wardrobe consists mainly of skinny jeans and sweaters, but Mag's insanely popular and we've been hanging out since second grade, so I just sort of got labelled as being cool because Mag decided I was.

Teenagers these days have no minds of their own. We really are clones.

I shuffle down the corridor leading to the main entrance, pulling on my hoodie and jacket. It's still raining, despite the fact that it's summer holidays in two weeks.

Which means finals in one week.

Oh unending joy.

I haul open the door and step outside, cursing at the cold. Is it too much to ask for a warm day? Just this once?

I look at the clock on my phone, which tells me Q's late.

Q's never late.

Not ever.

Weird.

I go and sit on the wooden bench to wait, rubbing my hands together to try and warm them up. I look around aimlessly, trying to pass the time. The writing on the bench catches my eye. A poem is carved into the head, reading:

_My love, my soul, my heart, my wife,_

_You are my dearest, you are my life._

_And when you left, you took me too,_

_For I am nothing, when I'm not with you._

I swear that's one of the cutest things I've ever read. I love it when benches are dedicated to people, it's so sweet that someone's gone to that much effort to make sure their loved one isn't forgotten.

It would be nice to have someone like that one day. To dedicate a bench to me when I die. I'd like a bench, I decide. A bench would be cool. A person to dedicate it to me would be cooler. I don't believe I'm a cynic, I'm a ridiculous romantic. Mag doesn't know me all that well, I don't like letting people in too deep. They only disappoint. The only person who I'd ever confess that to is Q, because he's the only person it doesn't apply to.

I can't imagine him letting me down.

Yet, as I think this, I realize he' still not here.

I pull out my book and Ipod and settle down into the bench.

***

"Claire?" I look up to see Trevor standing in front of me. "Maggie said you'd left."

"Um, yeah," I answered, searching for Q's truck. Damn, it wasn't there. I stuffed my book into my bad and shoved my Ipod into my pocket. "I'm going now actually." I begin towards the gate.

"Well then why would Maggie say you left earlier?" Trevor persists, following me.

"Because I was waiting for my ride, which was meant to be here two hours ago?"

"Was it that guy who was round yours last week?"

"Yes."

"Bit of a douche bag then, isn't he?"

Is he trying to piss me off?

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, bailing on you? And he seemed a bit clingy and pathetic last time, didn't he?"

No, the pissing off is a talent.

"I'm sure he has a good excuse. And we're friends, so he was round my house."

"Fine," he said, sounding insulted. We walk in awkward silence, him humming.

"Is there something you want?" I finally ask, finding his terrible attempt at music making irritating.

"Yeah," he says, looking up at me, "I wanted to ask you out on another date."

When I don't say anything he, like an indignant child, adds, "Unless you're too busy making out with your 'friend'."

I roll my eyes. "Oh please just go away," I snap, fed up with his Quil trashing.

Trevor is not the type of boy used to being told to go away. Even if I didn't know this, it would soon become apparent by his reaction to his rejection. He narrows his eyes. "Maybe I should give you some more beer - that seemed to lighten you up last time."

I begin walking quicker. "Go away."

"Why?" He asks, keeping pace. "Worried your boyfriend might see us."

"Seriously, shut up."

"Make me."

"God, you're such a jerk."

"And you're a whore."

"Excuse me?"

"You've gone out with virtually every guy in school. You get smashed on every date. And, you're two timing me."

"Yes, you are right Trevor. I apologise. Now piss off."

"Why? Your boyfriend gonna be mad?"

"Probably, yes," I sigh.

"Arrgh, I'm so scared!"

"What's your problem?"

"What's yours?"

"Just go away!"

"No."

"Why not?!"

"You didn't say please." He smirks, looking arrogant.

"I don't say please unless I have to."

"Well you have to now."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm not going nowhere."

"Uhuh."

"Not until you give me a second date."

"Why would I go out with you?"

"You tell me."

"I wouldn't!"

"But you did," he replies smugly, a smirk gracing his face.

"Before I realized what an arsehole you were."

"Maybe you'd change your mind if you let me kiss you."

I halt abruptly. "What?"

"Yup. I'm an expert kisser."

"You're a _pervert_."

He grabs my arm and pulls me towards him. "You're rude." He twists me so I'm facing him, using his free hand to turn my face towards him.

"Get _off!" _I screech, seriously freaked out.

"No."

I will admit, I'm quite an angry person, with a lot of rage to express. I have also taken self defense classes, and am quite strong for a girl. Which is why, when I raise my knee to collide with Trevor's groin, he releases me immediately and squeals like a girl. "What the fuck?!"

"Sexual assault is illegal," I yell at him, slapping him hard across the cheek. "And you chose the wrong girl to mess with."

"You're insane!" He wails, clutching his cheek and crossing his legs, one infront of the other.

"Maybe, but at least I'm not reduced to name calling. We're seventeen. And you just got your arse kicked by a girl."

"I'm impressed," a ragged voice comes up behind me. Trevor's eyes widen as he takes in Q's size and he starts to edge away, his hands in the air. "But I've got this." He cracks his knuckles, grinning slightly.

"Woah," Trevor stutters nervously, "No need for violence. I was just messing 's'all." His voice is at a ridiculously high pitch. "So, I'm just, going to go back and get my pencil I left in... algebra earlier." He turns and sprints away, glancing behind him to make sure Q isn't chasing behind.

I feel Q's warm arms around my waist. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. He was only trying to kiss me anyway, but he had a chilli dog for lunch, so it wasn't all that appealing, if you know what I mean..." Whenever I get nervous I have a tendency to make lame jokes.

Though I'm not sure exactly _why_ I'm nervous.

I've noticed that Q seems to have had that effect on me regularly recently.

"Wanna go home?" Q asks, chuckling lightly.

"Sure."

We saunter over to his car, and drive away from the school. "Hey, why were you so late?" I asked.

He frowns. "Oh, you know, work stuff."

"What kind of work stuff?"

"Had to stop something dangerous getting out in the rez," he says teasingly.

"What, a car?"

"Something like that."

"Oh."

I know there's something he's not telling me, but I don't pry. There's this weird atmosphere, I don't really know what to say to him right now. And I've never not had anything to say _ever_ before.

His, _our_, apartment is only a short journey away, but it seems like one of the longest drives of my life.

_She beat up a guy._

_My Claire._

_Jackass deserved it._

_She beat up a guy._

_I love her more and more every day._


	7. Panicking

**Hey guys. I am BACK. Sorry about the wait, I got abducted by aliens and went to Mars and it was red and hot and yeah.**

**I am ill, so please excuse any typos, I'm going to come back and look at it later but I just wanted it up for you guys to see.**

**It was my birthday and I had a german exchange.**

**TWO WEEKS UNTIL NEW MOON! In England that is, I'm not sure about everywhere else. AHHHHH HOW EXCITED ARE WE?!?!**

**There have been a few comments about my unAmericanness. Yeah, I'm British. Sorry about that, but I can't just pick up jargon. Teach me some American things, American readers! **

**Paramore's new album = AWESOMENESS.**

**Please review, maybe 75 and I'll post another chapter? Maybe not. I don't know, my head hurts.**

**I love everyone who reviewed. You guys are THE BOMB.**

**I still don't own Twilight. I imagine hot guys in my head, but not these hot guys.**

**Nice Quil's point of view for you to delve into.**

**Enjoy.**

_Mornings suck._

Damn I hate mornings. Claire does too. The only reason I get up so early is to see her. She looks so cute, with her hair all messed up and in my old T-shirt. And her voice goes all husky when she's first awake and she grunts answers until she's had her coffee.

I like mornings with Claire.

Which is why I'm up at five thirty every day.

But today I'm up even earlier. Because today I swear is the most important day of my life.

Her eighteenth birthday.

My Claire Bear's all grown up. I can't believe it's been sixteen years already, as clichéd as it is, it seems like just yesterday I first saw her.

Oh God, I'm welling up. _Come on Ateara. NO crying._

I know exactly what she'd do if she was here right now. Have a hysterical laughing fit, that's what. And now I realize she's not here, and my heart sinks.

_Stop crying!_

So anyway, sixteen years after I first laid eyes on her, and she still doesn't know anything.

_Anything at all._

And yeah, maybe it's not my fault since Sam didn't want me perving on his ten year old niece, but all those times I could've mentioned it, and I haven't. I feel so guilty. And let's not even get started on the wolf thing. She'll think I'm joking. And she won't believe me until I explode into a big hairy beast right in front of her, which I wouldn't even think about doing in case of harming her, but I can't deny my girl anything.

But let's not think about that right now.

I got off shift early last night, the guys wouldn't shut up, asking how I was going to tell her, how I thought she'd react, how I was screwed. Maybe literally. So Sam said I could leave, and told Paul and Embry to cover for me. They're all pretty hyped up about it. Emily's at home all day in case Claire wants to talk to her about it, and the guys are patrolling so they'll know exactly what went down as soon as I phase.

Of course none of them even compare to how frigging jumpy I am.

_What if she hates me?_

_What if she goes to stay with her parents?_

_What if she thinks I'm a perv?_

_And if she leaves, what do I do?_

_Or even if she stays, what do I say after a confession this big?_

_How do I even tell her in the first place?_

_What if she doesn't care?_

_What if she gets mad at me for joking with her?_

_What if she tells everyone she knows and I put the pack in danger?_

See what I mean?

FREAKING OUT.

I've written myself a timetable so I'll have some clue as what to do.

6.00 – Wake her up.

6.30 – Make breakfast and coffee.

6.45 – Wait while she gets up and dressed and make uped.

7.00 – Continue to wait.

7.15 – Tell her.

8.00 - ?

She's supposed to go to school today, but Emily decided she could skip. Claire thinks she's skipping just because it's her birthday and we want her to have fun, which we do, but then there's the whole telling her thing.

TELLING HER THING.

Seriously, I'm just obsessing about this more and more and more. I like some teenage girl twittering on and on.

_Shut up!_

My alarm goes off at 5.55 and I jump up nervously, hauling on some jeans. I would wear a shirt, but she prefers it when I don't, so I'll keep it off.

I go along the corridor and peek into her room. She's sprawled across the bed, her arms and legs thrown across either side. I can't see her face, it's covered by her hair, but I can hear her breathing, so everything is fine.

I could stand here for ages, just looking at that heap on the bed. Seriously.

But I can't and so I fling myself onto the bed, careful to avoid crushing her. "Claire Bear!" I coo, before erupting into 'Happy Birthday to you'.

"Hmnugamfsspt," comes the muffled reply.

"Come on Claire, you need to get up!"

"Go away."

"It's your birthday!"

"Yuh," she's bundled herself deeper into the sheets, pulling the duvet further over her head. She looks so adorable and comfortable I don't want to wake her. Maybe I could just come back later when she's more awake.

_No Ateara! Stick to the plan! _

But-

_The plan!_

"Claire. Wakey wakey."

"Mpissoggungna."

I poke her. "Noo!" She mumbles into the pillow.

I poke her again, very, very gently. "Stop it," she mutters, catching my finger in her hand. My heart starts jumping around like Kim that one time she got really drunk and hyper at the same time. To think I hadn't known Claire was just about to come into my life and change my world forever.

_Focus Ateara! Enough of the sentimental gay crap._

"Claire honey, I have a present for you!"

One eye opens, eying me curiously. "Yeah?"

I nod.

"What is it?"

"You'll have to come and see," I reply. I've been told I can't give it to her until after The Surprise, but mentioning presents is the only way I can envisage her getting up.

She's still holding my finger. "Can't you just tell me what it is?" She asks.

Yes, it's-

_FOCUS!_

But-

_No._

"No, you'll have to come with me. It's breakfast!" I declare, pulling her up by the hand she was using to hold my finger. "Come on, we're making pancakes!"

She scratches her head, stumbling after me and the corridor. "You are way too excited."

I laugh and pull her into the kitchen, sitting her down on the stool at the work surface. I set her a coffee which she delves into, sticking her entire face into the huge mug I have to use to satisfy her caffeine intake.

I make the pancakes, so aware of her sitting just a few meters away from me.

We sit and eat quietly, the coffee still not taking its toll on Claire, and me unable to speak.

She goes upstairs to get ready and I clear up, washing the plates and then emptying the dishwasher.

I go and watch TV while I wait for her to appear.

I can't even focus on which channel I'm watching.

_Calm._

My pulse is racing, and I'm pretty sure my palms would be sweaty if they weren't already constantly toasty.

_Oh crap._

Oh crap.

_Oh crap._

Oh crap.

_Oh crap-_

Oh crap she's here. I have to tell her.

"You OK?" She asks.

_No._

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You just look a bit pale 's'all."

"Oh," I laugh nervously.

She raises her eyebrows. "So anyways, what're we doing today?"

"Um, well, I have something to tell you."

"Ooh, my present?!"

"Um, kind of..."

"Well what is it?"

_Oh crap._

Better just get it over and done with. "I'm a werewolf."

She blinks at me. "Right. Um, so what's the present."

"I'm serious. And werewolves imprint, which is basically where we fall in love with someone as soon as we see them and have no choice but to love them. And I imprinted on you."

Again with the blinking. "Ermm...?"

"I swear it's true Claire, the guys are all werewolves. And Rachel and Emily and Kim and Lot are all imprints. Ask any of them. I wouldn't play a joke like this on your birthday."

She frowns. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Huh."

Silence.

Waiting.

_Oh crap_.

"So... you're only hanging out with me because you have no choice." It's not a question.

"No, not at all-"

"And you're a werewolf." Again, it's not a question.

"Yeah-"

"And you didn't think you could have told me this in the sixteen years I've known you, and the only reason I've known you is because _you had no choice_."

_Oh crap._

"So you _lied_ to me for sixteen years."

"Not exactly-"

"Yes you did. And you've been in _love_ with me?"

"Well, yeah-"

"That's just _gross!"_

"But it's not like-"

"You absolute creep!" She looks like she's just piecing everything together in her head.

And she looks _mad._

_Oh crap._

"Please Claire, I'm not trying to-"

"No way Q," she says furiously. "You can't just dump some wolf, imprinting shit on me and expect me to take it in like a good little wife or whatever I am to you." She's yanking on her jacket, stuffing her hands into a pair of gloves. I can only watch desperately.

"Claire, it's not like that-"

"Just piss off!"

"Please-"

"Fuck you," she yells as she storms out of the house, uttering curse words as she does so. "Bastard. Fucking wolf fuck. Arsehole."

_What the hell just happened?_


	8. Realising

**I'm back! Sorry that I've literally been away for about two years. I don't know what happened, or why I left you guys with such a cliffhanger. I just hope that people are still interested in this and I can make it up to you. Thanks for all the reviews and favourites I still get, literally makes my day every time and that's why I'm back, because I know that people get invested in these stories and I let you all down horribly. Forgive me, please! I just got back into FanFiction and realised what a boob I was and so here you go...**

_Well I buggered that up and now she hates me._

I'm out of the door before Q can try and stop me. I don't know what's wrong with me: why I'm so mad, why I'm shaking, why I feel so betrayed, why I even believed him in the first place. Q, a werewolf, in love with me? There was no way. If it was anyone else I would've just assumed they were telling some crap joke. But it wasn't someone else, it was Q, and there was something in his eyes when he said it, something so terrified and desperate and hopeful, that I knew he was telling the truth.

This couldn't be happening.

Werewolves don't exist, they're from films and books. They can't exist. This is La Push, this is the twenty first century, surely there couldn't be werewolves running around on the rez without anyone knowing. This makes no sense, I can't even comprehend what he's told me.

Bless Q, he didn't do a great job of it. Of all the ways he could've broken the news to me that he was a mythical creature who imprinted on me, whatever that means, he chose my eighteenth birthday at the crack of dawn. He didn't sugar coat it, but I appreciated that. He sat me down and told me and I ran away. But a little warning, or build up, or leading into it would've been greatly appreciated.

The rain beats down heavily against my back; I can hardly see there's so much rain, mixed with the tears which just wouldn't stop. I don't know where I was going, I just can't go back. I'm drenched and frozen and all I really want is Q to turn up and say 'Only joking!' so we can just go back to normal. He can give me one of his massive, almost painful hugs and warm me up and we can pretend it never happened.

But it had happened, and apparently it had been happening for Q for the last sixteen years.

For sixteen years, Q had stayed with me because he had no choice and because he had been forced to love me.

_To love me._

_Q loves me._

Q had watched me grow up, he'd been there for me through everything. He'd given me anything I'd ever wanted, been whatever I'd wanted. He'd given me more than I'd ever deserved, not because he loved me because of me, of who I was, but because he had to. I'd been some never ending chore to him, a daily problem he could never get rid of. And Q, sweet, nicest-guy- on –the- planet, cannot-live-without, Q, had waited for sixteen years to tell me so he could finally be free.

And it hits me.

Like a massive blow in my stomach – I feel sick and as if my legs are about to collapse underneath me. I stop walking and fall to the ground, hugging my arms around my legs. 'Nonononononono,' I mutter to myself.

The worst part, I realise, is that I am in love with him.

I am so in love with him, it hurts to think about. I am just completely in love with Q. I love him, I love him, I love him.

I'm embarrassed and mortified. All this time, I had slowly been falling in love with him, as he treated me with love and respect, when really he was just waiting until his odious task could be over.

_What an arsehole_, I tried to tell myself. _What a twat. He lied to me and made me feel like he actually cared about me, and the whole time he was just doing his duty. I do my homework, and I hate it. Is that how he feels about me? I clean my room, and it's a bloody pain. Is that what I am to him? I have athletics lessons, and have to run the fifteen hundred metres and it's tedious and long and unpleasant and all I ever want is for it to be over. Am I Q's running, never-ending track?_

And in my head it goes on and on and on, stupid, pathetic analogies running on and on through my mind. On and on and on until I can't bear it anymore.

My whole life, Q has been my whole life. He's more than my best friend, he's a piece of me and I don't know who I would be without him.

But to him I was just... what? Work? I didn't understand the whole imprinting thing, but obviously it was a wolf thing. So did every wolf go through this? Did every wolf have an imprint they had to look after until... when? Until the imprint let them go?

Well I would let Q go. I had taken his life for the past sixteen years and I hated myself for it. He'd had to devote himself to me through sixteen self obsessed, selfish, self centred years and I'd happily let him.

I'd never questioned it. I'd never really thought about our friendship that deeply, I'd never really cared why Q and I were friends; I was more concerned with remaining that way. I was an idiot.

A buzzing in the pocket of my jeans snaps me out of it.

I look around blearily. I laugh to myself – I'm at the beach. Of course I'm at the beach. Where else to sit and cry over Q, than the place we met, and spent most of our time together.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

Emily is calling me. I remember what Q said, about Emily being an imprint. Suddenly, everything falls into place. Her scars must have come from Sam, Uncle Sam, who wouldn't hurt a fly but scared the crap out of me when I was younger and even sometimes now. And the rest of them – Lot and Kim and Rachel, and they've all been lying to me too. Or did they not know? Did they know themselves about this wolf business, or this imprint stuff, or did they think their other halves actually cared too?

Emily keeps calling.

And then my heart stops. Because this time, when I glance at my phone as it buzzes and flashes, Quil's name comes up. I stare at the inoffensive phone, mouth open, for a minute, before bursting into tears.

He calls again.

And again.

Over and over again, so I switch my phone off. I don't want to talk to her; I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want this whole situation to be over, or to have never happened.

And so I sit and bury my head in my hands and wait for the rain to stop and for my life to sort itself out. I'm half expecting to see Q walking towards me any moment, so we can make up. But I know he's not coming and there's no point hoping – he doesn't really care, and he isn't coming.

So I cry and cry, weeping on the beach because I can't go home and I can't go anywhere else and I have no money and no car and no one to call, because normally I'd call Q, but now I can't and nothing makes any sense.

And so I stay on the beach, sobbing, until it begins to grow dark and I realise that now I'm really stuck and bloody freezing too.

I just want Q, the way it was, and that would be enough. I've realised I love him, but it hurts. It's painful when I think about it, and I wished I'd figured it out sooner, before this bombshell, so I could've found out he didn't love me back before this. But another part is glad I was so stupid and ignorant and foolish, because at least this way he'll never know that I'm in love with him.

Q will never know.

Eventually I'll get up, get my things and leave him alone forever.

Q will finally have peace and it will be the strongest thing I've ever done, and the best thing I ever do for him. And the last.

I will leave Q, so he can get his life back, even if mine is ruined ever after.

_I'm out of my mind crazy worried. Where the hell is she?_


End file.
